


Young, Dumb, and Full of Existential Dread

by guineaDogs



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-typical language, Legion (FX) au, M/M, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator, rating and tags will change as I add write, this is starting in an asylum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-14 09:06:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14132787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineaDogs/pseuds/guineaDogs
Summary: Tweek Tweak always knew he was crazy—he had the scars and the years of mental health assessments to prove it. The one thing he never expected was to find out he wasn't quite as crazy as he thought after all.Legion (fx) AU.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an idea that's been eating at me for a while, so here's to getting it all written and out there! I'm hoping to have a chapter out every week or so depending upon how much time I have to write. Future chapters should be longer than this one. Let me know what you think!

Tweek Tweak liked it here. The ward was full of crazies like him, but it was nice. There was structure, a schedule. He always knew what to expect:

6:00 AM: Wake Up  
6:15 AM: Shower, get dressed, brush teeth  
7:00 AM: Breakfast (bran cereal, orange juice, coffee, meds)  
8:00 AM: Morning Group Time  
9:00 AM: Meet with Dr. Janus  
10:00 AM: Legos  
11:00 AM: Meet with social worker  
12:00 PM: Lunch  
1:00 PM: Coffee  
2:00 PM: Recreational Therapy  
4:00 PM: Visitation  
6:00 PM: Dinner  
8:00 PM: Evening Group Time  
9:00 PM: Night meds  
11:00 PM: Lights out

The schedule didn’t always work out like that —sometimes the night time meds didn’t work, or wore off too soon and he couldn’t wake up when the orderlies came around because he never went to sleep in the first place. Those were the nights he spent hugging his knees and tried to convince himself that the monsters that were out to get him weren’t real. He was never successful. 

Bad nights didn’t necessarily mean bad mornings, but they happened more often than not. Sometimes he didn’t want to participate in group. Sometimes the medicine for his anxiety made him feel sick, sometimes the medicine they gave him for that nausea made him lose his appetite. Sometimes the medicine that made the voices stop got upped and he felt more like a zombie than a person. Sometimes he felt so numb that he was not so sure that he was really there, or even really a person.

If he wasn’t real or there, what did group lessons about positive thinking have to do with anything?

Mostly he liked to build things with Legos or make art. Legos were for kids, sure, but he liked it anyway. When his hands weren’t trembling, it was easy to snap the pieces into place. He could construct elaborate buildings and cities. If he didn’t have to share, his creations could have been fantastical. But he did have to share. He had to let the other patients have a turn when his time was up. That was part of the schedule; Tweek knew to anticipate that. He could handle it. What he couldn’t handle was having his creations destroyed before he was done. One time he took it so badly that he had to spend the rest of the day alone.

On normal days, that wasn’t a problem. The transition from building to another activity was seamless. Put a pencil and paper in front of him, or paints, or clay, and he’d be just as content. It was a good way to pass the time and to express himself.

Tweek wasn’t particularly social. He talked as much as necessary in group when he was in the mood to do so. When he didn’t, he stared outside through a nearby window and didn’t exist for a while. Sometimes his eyes darted about the room, as if he looked everywhere all at once, the monsters couldn’t sneak up on him. 

He didn’t make the effort to socialize beyond that. He was content to spend time alone, to create. He didn't even remember the last time he had a visitor. Years ago at this point—had to be. The only person who did talk to him outside of doctors, nurses, and orderlies was a guy about his age, if Tweek had to guess. Eric Cartman was a rather large boy who Tweek thought resembled that pig from  _ Animal Farm— _ Napoleon—more than an actual human. Maybe it was his fat cheeks, the way he shoveled food like it was more important than air. Or perhaps it was because sometimes when he looked at Eric, he saw pink skin, floppy ears, and a snout. Or did he see him that way because he thought it first? He couldn’t be certain.

Another thing he couldn’t be certain of was why the guy bothered to talk to him at all. Half the time, Tweek didn’t even respond—or if he did, it wasn’t in any coherent fashion. Like now, Tweek’s focus was more caught up in a drawing of a budding flower while sitting in the courtyard than paying mind to whatever Eric was going on about. 

“—and then I was like, ‘I don’t want to hang out with a bunch of queermos’ and he was all—Tweek, you’re not even listening and I’m getting to the best part.” It wasn’t a surprise that Eric suddenly sounded annoyed; his mood changed at the drop of a hat, especially if he wasn’t getting his way.

Tweek tore his gaze from the paper to look in Eric’s direction. His focus still wasn’t entirely there, but he knew how to go through the motions. “I’m drawing.” An explanation more than an excuse. He had no idea what Eric was talking about anyway. 

When Eric sighed and inevitably continued with a pointed ‘ _ as I was saying _ ,’ Tweek zoned him out again. Instead of immediately returning to his drawing, he scanned the courtyard. It wasn’t a particularly large space, but there were plenty of benches, a small fountain, and an assortment of garden beds with plants that were slowly returning to life. This was the first relatively warm day in ages, and while Tweek didn’t get cold easily, he found it refreshing. There’d been oppressive fog and cloudy skies for a few weeks, the sort of weather where it was either threatening to rain or snow depending upon the temperature, but inevitably nothing ever happened. Right now, it was clear, sunny, with a breeze that was comfortable, not enough to disrupt his art. 

The change in weather seemed to affect everyone’s spirits the way pizza day did. They seemed happier. He noticed a few people he vaguely recognized from his group sessions. There were no tears, no hysterics. Right now they seemed real and fluid, less like the animatronics he saw shuffling through the halls without any real intent. Tweek couldn’t blame them, not really. The fresh air and nice weather made him feel more alive, too.

His thoughts drifted as they often did. He contemplated the meaning of life, human existence—and that’s when he saw him. Tweek was uncertain if he’d encountered this guy before, but he was sure seeing him now. Black hair, unevenly cut across his forehead, blank expression, impossibly blue eyes—even from the distance of a few yards away, he could just tell. He was much taller than Tweek, broad-shouldered, lean, and he was looking directly at him.

Immediately Tweek shrieked and looked back down at his paper, scribbling at one of the corners as if to pretend that he was much more preoccupied than he actually was. That guy—he must know.  _ He can hear my thoughts. He wants to kill me. _ Tweek was only vaguely aware of Eric’s continued rambling, but the piggish man was onto him. 

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” His beady eyes shot toward Tweek as soon as he realized who he’d been looking at. Eric was in his head again. It happened far too much and he didn’t know how to make it stop. “Don’t even think about it, dude. That guy’s bad news. He just got out of solitary for  _ literally _ killing an orderly. I heard he bit half of his face off and snacked on his cheek until they could knock him out—”

Tweek shot Eric a glare. “Fuck off, man.” Perhaps it was fortuitous timing that those familiar bells chimed. It gave him the chance to ollie out of this entire situation. He bundled up his papers and drawing utensils. Eric was probably full of shit; he often was. But right now he couldn’t handle any of it. Not the accusations, not the staring. None of it.

Nope, fuck this, he’s out.


	2. Chapter 2

It was funny how once becoming aware of something once, it was suddenly everywhere. It was like noticing one person driving a Prius, and suddenly everyone was driving one. Perhaps they always were, and you just happened not to notice until something made you notice.

Or like how you could go through your entire life without noticing that you could see the tip of your nose without a mirror, and once you realized that it always seemed to be obstructing your view. Or when you realized that there was no comfortable way for your tongue to rest in your mouth. Once you recognized these things, it became impossible to focus on anything else.

At least, that was what it was like for Tweek. His awareness of Craig Tucker consumed him. That was the black-haired guy's name. It was something that wasn't too hard to figure out by simply existing, now that he had noticed him. Suddenly, Craig was everywhere. At breakfast, he on the far side of the cafeteria, barely visible in his periphery. In morning group, he was seven seats away in the circle of chairs. At lunch, he was two tables away, diagonally, and perfectly in view.

It made his skin itch from the inside and Tweek could only barely restrain from trying to relieve that. Instead, he gave an involuntary twitch that resulted in the table and his food tray shaking. “Why —AHH—is he doing this, man?” His lunch largely went untouched when he was like this, and it was always something that Eric picked up on.

“I told you he’s bad news, dude. He totally wants to kill you.” Eric didn’t react to the shriek that immediately followed. He hung around Tweek enough that he was used to the constant noise. That, and he seemed to enjoy egging on the blond’s paranoia. The change in topic that followed was immediate from the moment his eyes landed on an untouched pudding cup on Tweek’s tray. “Hey, are you going to eat that?” The answer came in the form of Tweek shrieking about something he didn’t bother to listen to, and then he was running out of the cafeteria, leaving his lunch behind. Eric’s reaction was a piggish smile as he snagged the dessert. “ _ Sweet _ .”

Tweek didn’t have a destination in mind when he left the cafeteria. He just needed to get away. That was what he always did. While he knew it wasn’t the best way to handle situations he didn’t like, it worked well enough in moments like this. He rounded about the corridor, spotting the rec room just ahead. Perfect. He could stay in there for the rest of lunchtime and that would give him plenty of time to (hopefully) wind down. There was plenty to do . In addition to Legos, there was drawing, there was the television and probably no one around to fight over channels. This time of day, there’d be nothing but bullshit on, but even just being able to choose which bullshit to watch would give him a semblance of autonomy. 

The last thing Tweek expected was to enter the rec room to find  _ him _ in there too. Thoughts raced through his mind like a cocaine-high hamster on its wheel. How did he get in here? There was no way he could have gotten here before before Tweek. He’d still been in the cafeteria like five seconds ago, hadn’t he? Yet here that fucker was—standing in front of the television affixed to the corner of the room, changing the channels.

Stands of blond fell to the floor as Tweek fisted and tugged at his hair. When was this going to stop? He was even more convinced that this guy had some sort of malicious intent. That he’d read his thoughts again, knew that Tweek was coming here. Clearly he’d teleported here to get him alone and— “GAH! Quit following me! I’m not going to let you scramble my brain!”

This was when Craig turned his attention away from the television to look at the shorter man. “The fuck—” He didn’t even get the chance to finish questioning what Tweek was going on about before Tweek’s fist collided with the side of his face. Before it could escalate any further, like it absolutely would have, one of the nurses came in along with an orderly to put some space between them.

The moment an unknown hand was on his shoulder and pulling him back, Tweek began to panic. He flailed and resisted. The nurse was saying something about him being agitated— _ no fucking shit, lady _ —but he couldn’t focus on her words beyond that. There was too much going on around him. The walls were closing in, it was too bright, too loud, and it was getting hard to breathe.

The familiar pinch of a needle in his arm dulled everything, and then it went dark. 

  
  


His mind and thoughts were heavy and it took a concerted effort to open his eyes. Sheer force of will, given the grogginess he felt. He could have slept longer—perhaps he should have tried since it felt like someone was trying to hold his eyelids closed—but the thought made him panic too much. When he finally got them open, he quickly searched the room as much as he could without moving his body. No one was here. Or at least, that was how it seemed. 

For all he knew, someone could be there, lurking just beyond his line of sight. In the corners of the room. Under his bed. Blending in with the too-bright light that made everything hurt. They could be watching him, waiting for him to move so they could do  _ something _ . The best he could think of to do was to just lay as still as possible. If he didn’t move, maybe they wouldn’t notice that he was awake. Maybe they’d spare him—

Tweek didn’t know how long he laid like that before he ventured to sit up. His head was pounding, his forearm was sore. There was no question in his mind as to what happened: he’d been got again. At least he was in his room. Out of all of the places for him to wake up fuzzy-minded, this was the safest and most familiar. A scan of the room confirmed that everything was as it was supposed to be. There was a desk in the corner covered in his art. He wasn’t allowed to bring pencils or other writing utensils into his room, but he was allowed to keep the things he made.

Closer to his bed was a book haphazardly laying on the floor. He was borrowing it from the ward’s library, and at some point had gotten frustrated with what he was reading and had flung it on the floor. His change of clothes rested on a chair along with his towel. His slippers were on opposite sides of the room. Everything was as he left it.

There was no clock in his room, no window, making it impossible to gauge the time of day. A test of the door once he got to his feet confirmed what he suspected: it was locked. That also didn’t provide any answers for him. It could mean it was no longer afternoon and in the middle of the night. It could also mean that they didn’t want to let him free. Tweek had been through this enough to know that banging on the door wasn’t going to change anything. He was stuck here, unable to escape, until someone on the outside changed their minds.

He returned to his bed in resignation, tucked himself under the covers and leaned against the wall. Tweek stared at the wall, and when he stared enough he could see pictures in the white paint. It kept him occupied until the heavy door finally creaked open. It was one of the nurses, though he didn’t know whether it was the one who got him earlier or not. Everything tended to blur. 

“It’s good you’re awake, Tweek.” Her voice was soft and kind and it put him at ease. The worst feeling was when they still sounded angry at him after an incident. He turned to look at her in time to see her step in with a tray of food. In lieu of a clear surface, she set it down on the foot of his bed. A sandwich, an apple, a small carton of milk. Something nice and easy for dinner, which was an indicator enough that it must be after normal dinnertime. “When you’re done eating, Dr. Janus wants to talk with you.” 

Tweek tried to ignore the sense of dread that washed over him. Dr. Janus wasn’t mean, and he really did want to help Tweek become  _ better _ , but it was never good to have a talk with him outside of the scheduled time. It meant he fucked up. That was almost enough to make him lose his appetite again, but between the lunch fiasco and coming off of the medicine he was injected with, he felt famished the moment his gaze landed on the sandwich. 

It took no time at all to finish eating. The tray was discarded, and he was led down the hall toward Dr. Janus’s office. It was in the part of the ward that he didn’t like. It was away from the cafeteria, the rec room, and the windows. It was the last room down a long hallway that may not have had any other use for all he knew. The linoleum was the same color as the walls down here: some weird creamy yellow that made everything look filthy. Even though the entire ward had that undeniable hospital smell, there was something distinct about this hallway. It had a more chemical stench, one that made his nostrils burn. The lights overhead always flickered.

It was awful. Normal meetings were always better; that was in the morning and was usually in a more comfortable room. One of the small office-like rooms near the rec room with a lot of windows. Sometimes they even got to happen outside. As he neared the end of the hall and the door clearly came into view, he wished more than anything that he could be somewhere else for the duration of the evening. Be someone else. Anything that would keep him from having to endure what was about to happen.

But there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t stop the door from getting closer and closer, just like he couldn’t stop from sitting down in the chair across from Dr. Janus’s desk after he gestured for him to sit down. The nurse left, closing the door behind herself, sealing his fate. A glance over his shoulder confirmed that.

Inwardly sighing, he braced himself and turned his attention to Dr. Janus, who at best looked very typical. He was middle-aged and unassuming, with a kind enough smile and at least always seemed genuinely interested in the well-being of his patients. Tweek couldn’t ask for a better doctor, probably, but he’d decided a long time ago that if Dr. Janus ever became a serial killer, he’d be one of the Ted Bundy types and (nearly, probably) get away with everything because no one would expect it from someone so normal. 

“I heard you had a rough day. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nngh.” It was an answer that wouldn’t fly. Dr. Janus never accepted nonverbals; when he asked a question like this he expected an answer. But he wouldn’t say as much. He’d sit in unnerving silence until Tweek found the words to elaborate. It was an often frustrating habit that the doctor had, but when it was all said and done, Tweek was sure it was one that helped him. “This guy—he’s one of them and he was trying to kill me.” 

A few things from the day were still a little fuzzy, but he remembered that. It was too terrifying to forget. The response from Dr. Janus was a slight frown, and he took a moment to write something down in the thick folder with his name on it. This was another thing that always bothered Tweek. He hated not knowing what was getting written down about him. There was a certain sort of permanence to it and the pressure of that was unbearable.

“We’ve talked about this before, Tweek. There’s no ‘they’ and no one here wants to hurt you.” He could say it a hundred thousand more times, and Tweek would still be unconvinced. As intelligent as the doctor was, there was just some things that he was incapable of understanding. This was one of them. 

“You don’t know that, man! You weren’t there. I—I saw it in his eyes.” Tweek shuddered at the memory of those too-blue eyes boring into him, like he was trying to drill a hole into Tweek’s skull to shake out everything that was in there. 

Tweek knew what was going to come next. There was a price for being honest. He was going to be asked if he’d been sleeping lately, despite the hours of drug-induced rest he just endured. There’d be a discussion about adjusting his medications again. Upping them, or changing the prescription entirely. He didn’t want that; while those sorts of changes were periodically necessary, it always fucked him up and he wasn’t ready to deal with that.

“I imagine you saw confusion. You  _ did _ punch him, Tweek. Don’t worry, he’s fine.” Tweek wasn’t concerned about the guy’s well-being, not yet, not when he was dreading what was on the tip of Dr. Janus’s tongue. “This sort of thinking isn’t good for you or helpful in any way. If anything, it’s taking a backwards step. Craig is a normal patient, like you. There’s nothing for you to be afraid of, and you need to understand that.” He cleared his throat. “Which is why your goal for tomorrow is going to be talking to him. Apologize, get to know him. You’re going to be facing your delusions head-on, and that’s only going to benefit you in the long run.”

That wasn’t what Tweek was expecting him to suggest, but he was filled with dread all the same. For the first time in a while, he didn’t want morning to come. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are enjoying this. Within the next few chapters, the other boys will be introduced. Until next time!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided this weekend is for writing and playing around on Phone Destroyer, so there might be another update this weekend. We'll see. I'm also working on a different SP one-shot, so :|a  
> Also, on the off-chance y'all want it, I'm on tumblr @thaumatroping

Morning came far too soon and Tweek was powerless to stop it. Sometimes he liked to imagine that if he concentrated enough, he could slow it down, milk every single second down for all it was worth. This wasn’t one of those times. He’d returned to his room after his meeting with Dr. Janus with the weight of everything he was expected to do resting on his shoulders. Apologizing to Craig was the right thing to do; he knew that. It just would have been so much easier to sweep it under the rug and just never address it. 

He shuffled into his room, flopped down onto his bed and leaned back against the headboard. No sooner had he done that, one of the orderlies banged on his door for the morning check-in. Tweek had no idea how it was morning already, but it wasn’t the first time that he experienced some sort of gap time. He must have simply zoned out, or something.  _ Or they got me again. _ Eyes widening, he pulled his sleeves back to examine his forearms. Fortunately, none of the bruises or scratches looked new, but he was more than just gangly forearms. He’d have to check more thoroughly while he showered, just to be certain. That wasn’t to say that he’d be able to convince himself that something hadn’t happened; sometimes the lack of proof served as a confirmation to him and he just spiraled. 

Whether that would happen didn’t matter so much as the task hanging over his neck like a guillotine. He didn’t  _ want _ to have to talk to Craig. It wasn’t that he was scared of him. Maybe he was a little. But the guy was just so off-putting. Tweek wasn’t convinced that he was even human at all. Most humans had a range of emotions, and when he bothered to pay attention he could sometimes see it in the other patients. Their faces moved and contorted as they felt different emotions. Craig didn’t. His face was always blank, sort of like an empty canvas. Except a blank canvas was primed and full of potential. Craig Tucker was just uncanny valley and gave him the heebie-jeebies. 

A rational person could easily point out that he hadn’t observed Craig enough to make such deductions about him, but Tweek was far from rational. His mind was made up, and he was so sure that it wouldn’t change. 

It was at breakfast that he saw Craig sitting at one of the far tables in the cafeteria near the windows. Tweek decided to ignore him at first, opting to proceed through the breakfast line first. There was always a selection of breakfast items. Sometimes it was grits and eggs, sometimes pancakes or waffles, sometimes burritos, but Tweek never took any of them. Instead he opted for the same bran cereal, juice, and coffee. 

The person who worked the kitchen in the mornings had a certain look to them that Tweek didn’t trust. Eric once commented that he looked like the sort of person who’s put shit in the food that got served to all of them, and Tweek agreed. Since then, he didn’t eat any of the hot breakfast items. The cereal came in small boxes, just enough for one bowl. The milk came in a carton. The juice came with a foil lid. If anyone tampered with any of it, he’d know. It was the safest option. 

The only risk he took when it came to breakfast was coffee. He didn’t know who prepared it, but the staff who worked in the ward drank it all the time, and he never once saw them eat any of the breakfast food. So it was also safe. Not the best ever, but it gave him the boost of caffeine he needed to get through a couple hours until the next time he needed coffee.

Moving through the breakfast line was always a slow process. Everything he wanted was at the end of the line, but he couldn’t just cut through to get it. He had to wait his turn as everyone slowly shuffled through the line. Normally, this was frustrating. More often than not, he got stuck behind someone who couldn’t make up their mind about one thing or another, and would grate on him until he inevitably snapped for them to  _ hurry it up, man. _

This morning he was glad that he was stuck beside a person who was waffling between salsa or gravy to go with their scrambled eggs and biscuit. It gave him time to weigh his options, to try to find his way out of it. The first idea that came to mind was to just lie to Dr. Janus and say he apologized to Craig. That he tried to get to know him, but there were just too many irreconcilable differences and it couldn’t go further than that. 

But there were cameras everywhere. There were so many security cameras in different corners of the rooms they all frequented, in the corridors.  _ Then _ there were the ones that couldn’t be seen that Tweek knew were there. He couldn't lie his way out of it. Dr. Janus would know. He knew  _ everything.  _

The second idea was just not doing it and not lying about it. It would spare the lecture about honesty, but that had its own issues. That counted as not participating at best, and at worst direct defiance. He wouldn’t give a fuck, except it would mean that his privileges could be taken away. There were worse things than boredom, sure, but if they took away what he liked to do in his freetime, he’d end up caught up in his own mind and that hardly ever led to good places. 

The person in front of him finally decided on salsa, and the line was moving again. One step at a time. Eventually, he was able to grab his cereal. In the moments following, he gathered everything else that he needed. It was obvious to him now as he white-knuckled his tray and turned his attention to the far part of the cafeteria. There was no way for him to get out of this, not in any way that would actually benefit him. He had to follow through.

Somewhere between making that conscious decision and now, he’d wound up at the other side of the table Craig was sitting at. He must have been standing there for some amount of time. At the very least, it was long enough for Craig to straighten and look up at him with narrowed eyes. “What do you want?”

Tweek wanted not to be here right now. He didn’t like the intensity of which Craig was looking at him. Once again, it felt like he was trying to drill into his skull. It was weird and uncomfortable, especially when so many of the other patients had a habit of avoiding eye contact with anyone. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t skirt away from this. With a sharp intake of breath, he spoke. The words rushed out, as if he didn’t blurt them out at once they’d never leave his mouth. “I want to apologize for punching you.”

Silence hung between them for a few beats, and Tweek was certain it was going to suffocate him. If it didn’t, the way Craig was watching him would. Finally, he nodded and gestured, indicating that Tweek could sit down across from him. Tweek accepted the invitation immediately; it was a lot less awkward than just standing there. Craig returned to eating his breakfast without actually saying anything about it. 

Was he waiting for an explanation? The uncertainty ate at him, and Tweek immediately started drinking on his coffee. It would soothe his nerves; that was what it was for. He needed to say something, but he struggled over exactly  _ what. _ He didn’t want to try to explain what his thought process had been at the time, or what he thought it had been. They were in a looney bin, sure, but that didn’t mean that Tweek liked talking about all the shit that was wrong with him. “Are you mad?” It was a fair question, especially given that Craig seemed impossible to read.

Craig didn’t immediately respond, but at least in this instance it was obvious to Tweek that it was because he had enough manners not to respond with a mouthful of egg. “No.” The response came after chewing, swallowing, a sip of some kind of juice. “That was the weakest suckerpunch I’ve ever gotten.”  The bruise he was sporting on the side of his face was multicolored and painful-looking.

When Tweek’s gaze met Craig’s, those blue eyes didn’t look quite so dead and empty. There was a hint of something that wasn’t quite a smile, but there was some sort of understanding. Tweek could feel it, and it tugged at his cheeks. Perhaps he’d been wrong about Craig, but he was fine with that.

  
  


There was nothing eventful about the rest of the morning. The rest of breakfast had been conducted in silence, but there was such a shift in the atmosphere that it was comfortable. In all honesty, it was such a goddamn relief to just be able to eat in peace without Eric there, running his mouth. Tweek idly wondered if Craig would mind if he had more meals with him, but he didn’t ask. It wasn’t incredibly important right now, and he was aware enough to know that making commitments for future meals was too much. 

It was better to focus on the present, one moment at a time. That was the best way to handle life, especially here. Too many things were out of his control here. 

Breakfast ended. Dishes and trays were stacked, trash sorted appropriately (organic, recyclable, trash). Morning group went about as well as it always did —which was sort of mixed. One girl said today was going to be a good day because the angels told her. Another talked about how they were getting better. Eric made a mean-spirited comment that made someone cry. That was more or less how it always went. On the bright side, the subsequent meeting with Dr. Janus went well. The doctor seemed pleased that Tweek followed through with making the effort to apologize and talk to Craig—albeit briefly. No privileges would be taken away. Few things could beat that. 

Tweek was in high spirits, and it made him feel brave. Or at the very least, a little braver than he was normally. When Lego time rolled around, he had grand ideas for what he wanted to build. Instead of a normal city, he wanted to make something that could only be found in some far off place. An abandoned place, perhaps, or an uncharted planet. It took little time for him to conjure it in his mind: lush green forests, creeping vines that overtook the facades of buildings that were older than anything imaginable. Chirping birds, a pleasant breeze. No pressure, no one around to look at him funny. It almost felt like he was there.

It didn’t last long; Tweek comes back down, returns to reality: the noisy rec room. He was tucked away in one of the corners of the room. It was smaller than the cafeteria, but large enough to accommodate a large group of people. There was a cluster of people around the television arguing over which channel to watch. Others played board games or simply existed. He hated the noise, but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go right now. He had to endure it, no matter how much it grated on him.

Tweek did his best to zone it all out, sorting through the Lego pieces for the dark green pieces he wanted to be the foundation of the first building he was going to make. That was when he saw someone in his periphery. Eric probably, here to make another stupid comment about how Legos were for children, not someone his age. Prepared to roll his eyes, he looked up to not see Eric, but Craig. 

This was new. 

Tweek tilted his head, a silent offer for Craig to join him. He hadn’t ever shared Legos  _ while _ it was his time, but there was a first time for everything, wasn’t it? Considering how breakfast went, Tweek is almost positive that he hadn’t come over to fight. Proof of that came when Craig joined him on the floor, crossing his legs and tucking his heels beneath his knees. No one said anything at first, and Tweek didn’t feel particularly pressured to. He simply focused on building. A green foundation, brown walls, with green pieces diagonally placed to represent the vines he envisioned. 

“What are you building?” Craig’s voice cut through the silence hanging between them. It was a little nasally, but even-toned. Tweek wouldn’t say disinterested, if only because based on the very few interactions they had, Craig didn’t seem like the sort who talked for the sake of it. This was fine with Tweek; there was only so much bullshit he could handle coming from someone else’s mouth anyway.

“A house.” He hadn’t decided until that moment exactly the sort of building it was going to be, but a house fit well. “It’s adobe. Or mud. And very old.” There was a tremble in his hand as he tried to snap one of the Lego bricks into place. “It’s far away, and no one’s been there in a long time so—nngh—vines are overtaking it. But it’s peaceful and quiet there, and lots of animals. Not like anything we’d know here, ‘cause it’s not Earth.”

Tweek’s entire focus was on building his house to the point where he didn’t notice Craig pilfering through the unused pieces. That only changed when the other started speaking again, and Tweek looked glanced over to see him constructing a white and blue tower. 

“I’m making a rocket. There’s a spaceman aboard, who got tired of all the stupid shit on his planet, so he left.” Once Craig explained, Tweek could see it —the edges were too rectangular, but that was the fault of the Legos themselves. But he could see it. 

Tweek licked his lips subconsciously. It was easier to talk something entirely fictional than himself or Craig right now, so it was kind of nice that Craig was going along with this, even if it was stupid. “He can discover this planet and not have to deal with anyone for as long as he wants.”

A small smile graced Craig’s lips, and Tweek couldn’t help but smile too. Maybe, just maybe, he was in the process of making an actual friend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a little longer than expected to get up, and a lot shorter than I wanted. I hope you enjoy all the same!   
> I can be reached on tumblr @ thaumatroping. On a side-note, I'm super into playlists and while I haven't made one for this fic yet, this is what I usually listen to while I'm writing: https://open.spotify.com/user/ga2u1711n92gz9iqgjnujnhex/playlist/6Vt32VodiWs5mKCdDVM7Ut

Days passed, weeks. It was hard to say with certainty, and judging by the outside weather didn’t particularly help. There were warm, sunny days where it felt possible to break a sweat if the air weren’t so arid. And then, seemingly without any warning at all, the temperature would drop, and he’d wake up to snow covering the courtyard and garden. But it didn’t matter so much; not when so much of his spare time was spent with Craig. Tweek didn’t know how it happened; it just  _ did. _

It was a warm day when he learned that Craig’s favorite animal was a guinea pig. Instead of lingering in the courtyard, the nurses urged the ward to venture into the field. It was spacious enough to have a semblance of privacy for conversations, but the tall fences that surrounded always served as a reminder of where they were. The ground was dry, the air was dry, the dust from the red clay track they walked along stained his shoes. Tweek asked a series of questions, having decided at some point that he wanted to know all he could about his new friend. 

Inquiring about a favorite animal was juvenile, or perhaps just unexpected, given the almost-laugh from Craig. Tweek hadn’t seen him smile,  _ really _ smile until that moment. “They’re cute,” he said simply. A tall, brooding man like Craig saying ‘cute’ was almost comical, though Tweek wasn’t quite sure why. Craig wound up talking at length about guinea pigs, about all the things he liked best. It turned out to be a lot of things, but what stuck out to Tweek the most was something about their unique personalities, the various sounds they made, how twitchy they got, particularly when they popcorned. 

For Tweek, he liked birds. They could always do what he couldn’t: fly away.

The fog hung oppressively in the gardens when they almost touched. It was one of the days where going outside wasn’t an option, so they tucked into a corner while Tweek worked on another construction. It had been an accident, reaching for the same piece at the same time. Tweek noticed before contact happened, and with the sound he made, one would think he was injured. He was shaken up at the very least, too worked up to be able to piece his Legos together anymore. 

“I —nngh—I don’t like to be touched.” He was eventually able to get his explanation out. He didn’t need to elaborate more than that, however; Craig nodded, and from that point onward paid mind to where they were positioned. 

There was a downpour when Tweek realized that Eric didn’t linger with Craig around. It was a relief, but not one that he was aware of until Eric finally confronted him. Rain pounded against the windows of the rec room when he abruptly appeared, puffy face red with fury. “ _ Why _ are you still hanging out with this faggot? You know he just wants to get in your pants so he can cut your dick off and eat it like a summer sausage.”

“WHAT.” Anxiety seared through Tweek’s veins as he spared an apprehensive glance toward Craig, who glared daggers at Cartman. The thing was, he knew not to listen to Eric. At least, in theory. It didn’t stop him from worrying that there might be some truth in the accusation. 

Craig’s response had been simple enough. “Fuck off, fatass, before I make you.” Eric made his exit soon enough, and the rest of the day was spent with reassurances until Tweek forgot what he’d been so shaken up by. 

It was an hour before lights out one night that Tweek learned how much Craig loved space. It was hard to see the stars here; the lights in the ward made too much of a glare, but if he pressed his face against the glass just the right way, he could see some of the brighter ones out there. Craig offered the information without Tweek asking; he’d just been watching Tweek and he chose that moment to bring it up. 

Tweek could see his reflection in the window, knew Craig was watching him instead of trying to see the stars. His face was bright again—the same way he’d looked when he talked about guinea pigs. He listed off the facts he found most interesting, quietly admitted that he once wanted to be an astronaut. Tweek pulled away from the window long enough to look at Craig directly, deciding then that there was something comforting about space being so infinite. 

Late-sprouting flowers started to bloom when Craig asked him. Hands shoved into his pockets, trying to be as casual as possible as if his cheeks weren’t burning as he said  _ will you be my boyfriend. _ The question came as a surprise to Tweek, who immediately glanced over his shoulders, expecting someone to be there, to overhear. He didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t already know what his answer was going to be. They could get in so much trouble— 

“Don’t touch me,” he said immediately, as if Craig needed the reminder after Tweek panicked that one time. He worried on his bottom lip before letting go of a breath he didn’t realize that he was holding. “Do you promise?” After Craig nodded, Tweek gave him the affirmative. Later that day, Craig held up a strip of braided yarn, about a foot long. He held one end, Tweek held the other. It wasn’t  _ technically _ holding hands, but it was as close as he could get—and, well. It was nice. 

It was sweltering hot outside when Eric approached him. Tweek was swatting gnats away from his face when he found the sunlight suddenly blocked by his shadow. Of course he’d show up; Craig wasn’t around right then. It was the perfect time for the pig-boy to aggravate him. Squinting, he looked up at him from his seated position on one of the outside benches. 

“What to you want?” Tweek asked after he found Eric’s lack of immediately explaining himself to be  _ too much. _ It made him nervous, wary.

Eric offered a lazy shrug, as if he was just here for the sake of being here. But that wasn’t the case. He had a reason for everything. “I was just coming to see how you were handling things. You know, with Craig transferring.” 

“ _ What. _ ” Tweek’s eyes widened. Craig hadn’t mentioned this—surely he would have brought it up if he leaving. Wouldn’t he? They told each other so much…

Of course, this was when Eric chose to laugh. It was a cruel laugh, one that made the pit of Tweek’s stomach heavy and uncomfortable. “You mean he didn’t tell you? He’s literally gathering the two personal possessions he has here. I told you ages ago that he was fucking crazy. Finally snapped, so now Janus is sending him off to one of those high-security places. You know, the ones where they do electroshock and lobotomies for funsies.” 

A wave of nausea washed over him. They couldn’t do that—Craig wasn’t dangerous or crazy. Not like  _ Tweek _ was. He had to do something. He  _ had to. _ There wasn’t anything to say to Eric; right now that would only waste time. He had to find Craig. Tweek didn’t know what he was going to do, or how he was going to do anything. All he knew in that moment is that he had to help Craig.

In an instant, he was on his feet and running toward the glass doors that led from the courtyard to the ward. A mental map pulled up in his head, one that he could see so vividly. There was the lobby, the halls—Craig’s room was just around the corner from his own. None of it was really that far, especially if he kept moving with all his might.

He didn’t find in the lobby, nor was he in his room. In Tweek’s panic, he hadn’t noticed whether Craig’s belongings were still in the room; he only registered that  _ Craig _ wasn’t there. It only made him panic more. If they got him—if they scrambled his brains, he’d be a zombie! There’d be nothing that made Craig  _ Craig _ left. 

Relief should have shot through him when he finally spotted Craig heading toward the rec room. Simply seeing him didn’t put Tweek at ease; there was still the ever-present fear that the orderlies would now appear out of nowhere and drag him away. He yelled for Craig before he was anywhere close, but once he was—

Once he was close enough, that was when Tweek broke his own rule: he grabbed Craig’s wrist. 

It happened quickly. A loud cracking sound, flickering lights, smoke and sirens. There was a lot of screaming— and there was something that sent Tweek flying backward. Maybe. He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure of anything. His head hurt, his vision blurred, sound distorted.

Then everything went black. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos, guys!!!  
> I wanted to get this up earlier but was unable to. Anyway, we're meeting some of the others now.

If there was one thing Kyle Broflovski wanted more than anything, it was a normal life. If there was one thing he couldn’t obtain through no fault of his own, it was exactly that. His life bordered on chaotic and hectic, the sort where he was lucky if he managed more than four hours of sleep at a time. He wouldn’t complain about it, howeverーhe simply didn’t have the  _ time. _

Dawn was hours away when he woke. Every part of his queen-sized bed that he hadn’t been touching was cold, but the air above the pile of blankets, and the rest of the house, was frigid and had even more of a bite. He sat up slowly, throwing his legs over the side of the bed and immediately slipped his feet into the pair of slippers that rested on the floor. It took a concerted effort to push himself out of bedーa symptom of never enough sleep; attempting it on a mattress that was just a little too old and soft to encourage any sort of quality rest; willfully starting the day far too early than what should be allowedーbut he managed it all the same.

Kyle had a routine, and it was one he stuck to vehemently. From his room, it was a slow shuffle to the kitchen to get the coffee pot going. After several heaping scoops of a dark roast into the filter, water poured into the reservoir, and a little impact calibration, the machine roars to life and begins to slowly drip the sustenance that makes his ridiculously early mornings possible. By the time he showered, got dressed, and tamed his hair in as much as humanly possible, the coffee would finally be finished brewing and he would be privy to the first cup. That was how it always was; no one would dare take that from him, not when this habit ensured that there was fresh coffee waiting on them too. 

As busy as he was, he did allow himself one thing: a slow start in the morning, a full breakfast, time to catch up on current events. The only variable was whether he’d be alone at the kitchen table or if one of his roommates would join him. It hardly made a difference to him; one scenario was just more quiet than the other. 

When he returned to the kitchen, dressed and prepared for the day, he knew it was going to be one of the more conversational mornings. That was fineーKyle wasn’t the sort who needed to already have caffeine in his system in order to be somewhat social in the morning. The shower woke him up well enough; his need for coffee had more to do with sustaining energy levels and focus than anything.

The same couldn’t be said for the others. As Kyle beelined to the cabinet to fetch a mug for his coffee, to the fridge for the open container of condensed milk, and finally to the coffee pot, he spied a messy mop of blond hunched over, head resting on the table. He snorted quietly and busied himself with fixing his coffee. That first sip was his favorite one, and he barely contained his contented sigh before leaning against the counter to appraise his friend more closely. “Rough night?”

That was when the blond pushed himself up into a proper position, albeit still slouched. “Not everyone is a fuckin’ robot like you, Ky.” Truth be told, Kenny McCormick suffered from the same lack-of-sleep issues as Kyle did, though for slightly different reasons. It was neither here nor there; there was always a lot to do around here and everyone had to pull their weight. He wasn’t about to complain about that. 

For a moment, Kyle didn’t say anything. The morning was progressing; the kitchen was hues of blues as the outside sky began to brighten, and it illuminated the bruises and pure exhaustion across Kenny’s face. He poured a cup of coffee, black, for Kenny and set it down in front of him. He was a man of simple tastes, and that worked well for Kyle. It made things a whole lot easier; he wasn’t a barista, after all. If Kenny required all sorts of syrups to enjoy his coffee, he’d leave Kenny to his own devices. A brief squeeze of Kenny’s shoulder, and Kyle was moving away again, this time to pop a half of a bagel in the toaster and fetch the container a pineapple juice-based fruit salad and a small carton of vanilla yogurt. A simple breakfast, perhaps, but it would get him through the morning all the same.

“You don’t hafta do that, you know.” The words were mumbled, almost distracted as Kenny reached for the mug, letting the ceramic warm his hands. They both knew he wasn’t talking about the coffee.

The toaster made a quiet  _ clink _ as it ejected the bagel, and Kyle shuffled back to the table. This time, when he looked at Kenny, he appeared a little more refreshed. Good. “You act like it somehow inconveniences me. It doesn’t.” Kyle saw a slight nod from the corner of his eye as he focused on his breakfast, and he was satisfied with the acknowledgement even if he knew Kenny didn’t agree with him for whatever reason. 

A comfortable silence hung between them. Both of them were capable of talking their heads off, but the mornings really weren’t the best time for shooting the shit. The quiet wouldn’t last much longer anyway, so it was best to enjoy it as much as possible. Kyle was more than content to scroll through his news feed while picking at his breakfast. That was exactly what he did until the silence was broken by the entrance of one of their other housemates. 

This, again, was typical. The first three awake was always Kyle, Kenny, and Wendy. The others? If it weren’t for alarms, it would be amazing if they were up before noon. It worked out well this way, though. The mornings where everyone was up at the same time led to crowded kitchens and an extreme coffee deficit. 

Wendy offered the two a tired smile and started the kettle for tea. She didn’t say anything at first, which coincidentally gave Kyle enough time to finish his article before she  _ did _ speak up. “You’ve really got to stop abusing the coffee pot, Kyle.” 

The comment made Kenny snicker, and Kyle rolled his eyes in an exaggerated fashion. It wasn’t the first time she mentioned it, and it wouldn’t be the last. “It wouldn’t happen at all if we got a new pot like I’ve been saying for  _ months. _ This one’s on its last leg and you know it.” As far as he was concerned, there was  _ no _ reason for a 12-cup pot to take nearly half an hour to brew, and he’d stand by that. 

He and Wendy agreed on a lot of things, but this wasn't one of them. The look she gave him illustrated that easily enough. “Don’t be insensitive. You know we can’t do that. It’d be cruel.” Which was bullshit, but he supposed his perspective would be a little bit different if he could communicate with electronics the way she could. 

“It wouldn’t be cruel. You could keep this one in your office, and the rest of us could enjoy a coffee pot that actually works.” It was the dream, but not one that was obtainable in the nearby future. Technically, it was a matter of filling out a req for it, but there were much more important things to prioritize. Speaking of whichー “I need to get to work.” 

Kyle pushed his chair out from the table and after putting his dishes in the dishwasher, headed to the front door where his coat hung. The elevation guaranteed a chilly morning, especially before the sun had a chance to warm the air. It was mornings like these that he regretted that his lab wasn’t located in the same building as his residence, but he knew if that were the case, he’d be even more reluctant to disconnect from his research long enough to sleep.

Fortunately, it was a brisk walk; nothing was that far apart in their compound. It was a small acreage nestled in the mountains. At the heart of it was a large, three-story buildingーwell, five, if you counted the basement and sub-basementーwhich would have looked particularly intimidating were it not for its pitched roof and numerous windows. It was where is lab was, it was where Wendy’s office wasーreally, everything was located in this building. The areas surrounding this were littered with housing. Two, three houses, and a dorm for the younger residents who were still learning  _ what _ they were and how to control their abilities. 

For what it was, it was nice.  It was quiet, isolated, safe. So far, they’d been undetected. Kyle knew it wouldn’t always be that way; technology would advance, the wrong side would eventually recruit people like  _ them _ ーand that was exactly why he needed to stay ahead of the game. Make sure they’re prepared for anything. 

Much like any other day, the moment he stepped into his lab, he was lost to the rest of the world. It was easy to get caught up in tests, his research, engineering. Sometime in the afternoon, Stan would inevitably drift in, stick his nose right in the way, and reprimand Kyle for skipping lunch  _ again. _ It would only be then that he’d be pulled out of his focus to realize that  _ oh yeah, he is kind of hungry. _

That wasn’t what happened today. About an hour before the usual time he could expect Stan, if he were paying attention to the time, the entire lab was illuminated in flashing red. Kyle straightened from hunching at one of the computers with a frown. An emergency of some kind, he knew, but he still took the time to save and secure his work before leaving the lab and heading upstairs to the conference room.

It wasn’t much of a surprise that he was the last one thereーor, last, with the exception of their fearless leader who was nowhere in sight. That alone was enough for Kyle to narrow his eyes, but he said nothing of it. Instead, he took his seat at the conference table between Clyde and Stan. Across from him were Kenny, Heidi, and Bebe; while he got a few nods of acknowledgement, most of the room’s attention was on Wendy, who was standing at the front of the room. 

“Now that we’re all here,” Wendy began. Both her expression and tone were grave. “There was a disturbance we picked up five minutes ago at a place called Tranquil Gardens Sanitorium.” With a click of a button, the wall behind her displayed a map. A blue dot blinked to indicate its location. 

“Sounds cheery,” Stan muttered. 

Wendy shot him a warning-glance and continued. “The readings were off the charts. We’re still waiting on an analysis to come back, but guys, we haven’t encountered  _ anyone _ this powerful before.” There were a few shared glances around the room, and the shared sense of foreboding was palpable.

Kyle crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair while worrying on his bottom lip. “We don’t have time to wait for the results to come in. We need an investigative team to head out immediately, but we’ve got to be prepared for anything. There’s no way to know what sort of abilities this person hasーbut we  _ must _ find them before anyone else does.” 

“Exactly.” Wendy’s thoughts were probably similar on the matter. Whoever this was needed their help; they just didn’t know it yet. Furthermore, with a war brewing on the horizon, having someone so powerful on their side would be a much-needed asset. “Clyde, Stan, Kenny, Bebeーsuit up. You three are going in the field. Kyle, Heidi, and I will handle things on this end.” 

“I’d like to make an addendum,” Clyde said, raising his hand as if this a classroom and not a life-or-death meeting. “It looks like this place is right outside of the Springs, so we go do whatever and then make a side-trip to La’au’s.” 

“ _ Dude. _ ” Stan and Kyle said in unison, both giving Clyde an incredulous look.

“What? It’s Hawaiian inspired  _ tacos. _ It’s amazing. Trust me, the fish tacos are to die for.” 

That was the exact moment where Kenny started snickering. Kyle closed his eyes, inhaled, held for five, slowly exhaled. Truly, Clyde was a great guy. Sweet, compassionateーbut Jesus Christ, sometimes Kyle wanted to strangle him. Fortunately, no murders had to be committed; the conversation halted there as Wendy reminded them that they were racing against the clock. 

Kyle elbowed Stan’s side as they filed out of the conference room. He wasn’t incredibly chafed about having to stay behind. It was long-established that it had to be this way, and Kyle understood why, but it didn’t make it any easier. “Don’t you dare get hurt out there. I’ll kick your ass if you do. Without hesitation.”

Stan laughed heartily, throwing his arm over Kyle’s shoulders. “I don’t doubt it, but you have nothing to worry about. Everything’s going to be okay.” It wasn’t often that Stan was the optimistic one between the two of them, and Kyle doubted his sincerity, but he had to make himself believe it anyway.

For everyone’s sake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno about y'all but _I'm_ going to check out La'au's next time I'm in the Springs :P
> 
> cheers~


End file.
